


Open Your Eyes

by marksdolphin



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marksdolphin/pseuds/marksdolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James called for Q's help on his latest mission, but he didn't quite plan what happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Your Eyes

Falling in love with Bond was a very long and gradual process. It wasn’t easy for Q to say when it happened and, for a very long time, Q wouldn’t actually say that it had happened. On this day, however, when Bond’s heart rate was plummeting and his chances were low, Q knew. Q knew then that he was in love. Maybe not in the normal way, but he was still in love. He was in love with James Bond. Tears filled his eyes and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. James Bond couldn’t die. Not now. His head lay in Q’s lap, destruction surrounding them and a laptop waiting on the floor next to them. Q wanted to say it. He wanted Bond to know in his last moments just how loved he was and he wanted Bond to realise that he had reason to hold on, but Q couldn’t. He couldn’t admit to himself that he had fallen in love so simply with 007 and that there was the chance that could save his life. That was ridiculous. No matter what Q told him, it wouldn’t increase Bond’s chances.

“Bond, come on, you prick! Just hold on, backup is on its way, Bond look at me. Look at me. Don’t close your e- Bond! Don’t close your eyes Bond!” Q tried to stay calm as he heard the news crackle through his ear piece that support was mobilised. His own head was spinning and he couldn’t see much beyond Bond’s face as a result of his broken glasses. He could just take them off, but that would only make situations worse. Anyway, he could make out how Bond’s blinks were taking longer and how blood dripped from his head, over his ear and came to a stop on Q’s leg. He could see Bond’s hand as it reached up, resting on Q’s cheek as a smile spread weakly across his lips.

Bond was losing. He wouldn’t make it much longer and Q wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to be here when this happened. Somehow, he always knew he’d be around when Bond’s life came to an end, but he had imagined it under different circumstances. His mind had conjured up images of this day arriving after years of happy marriage, in a hospital bed, of natural causes. Logically he knew, of course, that was never going to be the way that James Bond died. James Bond, 007, could never die of natural causes. His death would have to represent the way his life was lived – full of action and danger, directly in the public eye, yet private. Somehow it seemed fitting that in the middle of England’s capital city, one of the largest buildings crumbling around them and passers-by being taken away by police whilst other people around them struggled for their lives, they were still alone. Q smoothed back some hair on Bond’s forehead, and he squinted desperately through his glasses trying to meet Bond’s eyes.

Open your eyes, Bond. Open your eyes. 

Q saw that the pool of blood on Bond’s shirt was growing by the second, yet there was no wound to the agent’s torso. The blood was coming from his own body as a result of falling debris that had collided with his skull earlier. 

Bond’s head fell off of his knee. 

His eyes were closing.

Q hadn’t paid attention in the past to the way that his body reacted to Bond’s presence. He hadn’t noticed the way that the butterflies in his stomach became even more active when he was put on a mission with Bond, or the way that he couldn’t resist smiling whenever Bond complimented him. He had never noticed how his heart fluttered every time Bond smiled or his bright blue eyes twinkled in a way that said “about that car…” but still Q wasn’t mad with him. Not really. He had come to love the way that “bring it back in one piece” translated to Bond as “bring back one piece” and he began to love the way that Bond got a little bit shy and awkward whenever he had to admit to Q that most of the technology he was given at the start of the mission was now nowhere to be seen. He had come to love the way that Bond saw nothing more than a bloody big shi-

Bond, open your eyes! Come on Bond!

Q was struggling to get words out of his mouth. His throat was dry and he was becoming dizzy in the heat of the environment. It wasn’t hot. Why did he feel hot? He needed water. No, he needed Bond to wake up. Bond couldn’t fall asleep. Help was on its way. Keep them open, please Bond, for me. Q wished the words would form in his throat but the tears in his eyes were the only thing that could reassure James that his Quartermaster was still alive as the agent tried desperately to get his words out of his mouth.

Truly, falling in love had been a slow process. It had been inconsistent and Q really couldn’t say whether or not that was truly what had happened. Was Q in love with James Bond? The way his heart broke harder than any bone in any body ever could at the sight of Bond as his arm fell, his hand facing towards the sky, palm open, suggested to him that maybe he was. Open your eyes, Bond. Open your eyes. Was that a sign of love? Maybe it was that it never even occurred to Q that he should blame Bond. After all, the only reason Q was at this building at the precise moment that the bomb went off was because Bond had asked for him. But that idea never crossed his mind as he failed to feel. He failed to think. Please Bond, I need you, don’t go.

Q’s palm pressed against that of Bond in a bizarre attempt to hold his hand. It seemed like the wrong time to try it, but if now was the last chance Q would get to speak to Bond, he wanted it to mean something. 

Bond didn’t return the hold.

Open your eyes, you bastard!

Even through the cracks in his glasses and the tears in his eyes, Q could see that Bond’s chest had practically stopped rising and falling. Those bright blue eyes were dimmed and soon covered by his eye lids. He was going to sleep. Wake up. Open your eyes. Please, James. “Q? Q, the helicopter is landing now. Try to remain calm,” M’s voice broke through Q’s silent pleas, whilst the whirring of helicopter blades began to sound in the distance. 

Bond stilled completely. 

No! Bond, wake up! 

Q shook Bond’s hand slightly, wanting, with everything it had left to give up and his head feeling like the victim of a thousand consecutive beatings, Bond to wake up and make some form of snide comment. He needed Bond to wake up. 

I need you to open your eyes, please, just open your eyes! We’ll be out of here soon!

Bond’s heart beat for the final time, his life coming to an end as he lay in Q’s lap. 

Q couldn’t think and he burst into tears, clutching the front of the man’s jacket and shaking him desperately as though through some miracle this would make him wake up. It didn’t. 

Just open your eyes.

An agent Q had never seen before came and crouched down beside both of them; he was speaking but Q couldn’t hear him of the deafening silence of his mind.

Open your eyes. For me.

Q wanted to scream. He wanted to be left alone with Bond for one final time and he wanted Bond to wake up. He wanted to see that falsely apologetic grin on Bond’s face as he announced the lack of equipment he was able to return to Q branch. He didn’t care how, he just wanted Bond to be alive. He needed Bond to open his eyes.

Please, James. Open your eyes.

I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to tumblr user thenerdyindividual for beta reading this for me!


End file.
